


we're golden under soft light

by dearzoemurphy



Series: The Story After Fire Saga [1]
Category: Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (2020)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Canon Divergent, Canon Rewrite, Gen, Lars actually has to face some consequences, and Sigrit gets to be happy with her new friends, but also Lars gets some character development
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25523272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearzoemurphy/pseuds/dearzoemurphy
Summary: He was supposed to be there. Being there had been his one and only goal in life since he had first seen ABBA perform in the contest all those years ago. But when he was presented with the one in a million opportunity to be there, he left.Lars doesn't make it back to the Song Contest and Sigrit must perform without him.
Relationships: Sigrit Ericksdóttir & Alexander Lemtov & Mita Xenakis, Sigrit Ericksdóttir & Lars Erickssong
Series: The Story After Fire Saga [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874209
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	we're golden under soft light

**Author's Note:**

> I said I wouldn't write fic for this movie, but I'm so glad I did! I love Sigrit, Mita, and Lemtov and saw a version of Lars that could have been good, so here we are. I hope you all enjoy! <3

Lars Erickson sat alone in the only bar in Husavik. Actually, he wasn’t alone, strictly speaking. The establishment was packed to the gills with fellow town residents, all drinking and occasionally yelling insults at the soccer game on the TV. But he was sitting by himself at the bar, looking out over the sea of people bubbling around the tables and benches.

He looked down at his watch, out of habit more than anything, and noticed that it was five minutes until Fire Saga was supposed to take the stage. He was supposed to be there. Being there had been his one and only goal in life since he had first seen ABBA perform in the contest all those years ago. But when he was presented with the one in a million opportunity to be there, he left. Left his partner alone to soak up all of their shame and embarrassment from their disaster of a preliminary performance.

Only, it hadn’t been shame and embarrassment waiting for them in the artists’ room. It had been triumph and unexpected joy. Lars was too in shock to process the reality of missing out on it.

When him and the rest of his father’s fishing crew came back to the dock, the man known only to Lars as “the one who always asks us to play Jaja Ding Dong” told the group that Fire Saga had made finals. It had felt like those words stabbed him right in the heart. But he had also felt a strange sort of relief, along with an overwhelming wave of gratitude.

 _“Sigrit must be so happy,”_ he had thought, pushing consideration for his own feelings to the side. And then he had come to the bar with his father, hoping they weren’t too late to see her perform.

When Lars looked up again, the TV had been switched over to show the Eurovision Song Contest, where his best friend in the whole entire world was about to take the stage. Without him. But he wasn’t even upset. He had made a decision, and for the first time in his life, he had to reckon with the consequences of his actions.

 _“May the elves help you win this, for Iceland and for yourself,”_ he thought before knocking back the rest of his beer and moving to get a better seat.

\---

Sigrit had not taken well to being abandoned. Very few would, especially those in her situation. At least she had Alexander and Mita to pull her back together. Lemtov had held her while she cried at his house, then called his Greek friend in to help them arrange Double Trouble for one vocalist. They’d cut out Lars’ main verse and put in a new one with lyrics written by Sigrit that definitely weren’t about her current anger towards him. Both contestants assured her that it would be great, she had nothing to worry about. They told her that she would make Iceland proud, with or without Lars.

She believed them right up until she was standing in the middle of the Eurovision stage in a long white dress, fog billowing up all around her. Looking out over the crowd, she felt her heart begin to race. There was no way she could do this. Not without Lars! He was her other half, her inspiration, her everything. She wouldn’t have pursued her dream of music if it wasn’t for him. She knew that she definitely wouldn’t be on that stage at that moment if it weren’t for him. So seeing thousands of indiscernible faces staring up at her from underneath a blanket of darkness, waiting with bated breath to see what she would do, was simply too much.

The opening chords to Double Trouble rung out through the arena. The song she had written with Lars. The one he had said was terrific and insisted on entering in the contest.

Sigrit felt her entrance pass, but didn’t quite catch it. All of a sudden, she couldn’t breathe. It felt as though her lungs were on fire and her chest was being crushed by a 200 pound weight at the same time. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t find the strength.

“Wait,” she croaked out. The world seemed to spin as she felt the crowd’s eyes boring into her.

“Wait! Stop!” Sigrit yelled into her mic. It echoed throughout the arena, catching her off guard with its haunting tone.

The music came to a screeching halt, leaving a still sort of silence in its wake. Sigrit tore herself away from the crowd and took a deep breath, then another, then another before turning back to face it.

“I’m sorry. I want to go through with this, but I can’t. I just can’t,” Sigrit started. She felt herself gasping for air as she tried to collect her thoughts. “I wrote this song with my best friend. He’s the most important person in the world to me, and he should be here! He should be here, but he’s not,” she continued, feeling tears beginning to well up at the corners of her eyes, “So I can’t do this. I’m sorry, I…”

She hastily turned around to leave the stage, stopping dead in her tracks when her gaze landed on the keyboard to her right. Curiously, she hiked her skirt up and stepped towards it. She slowly made her way around the instrument, timidly reaching out to brush her hand against the keys. A plan was forming in her head as she took a seat behind it. She glanced to her right to see Mita and Alexander smiling at her from where they stood in the wings. That was all the encouragement she needed to make a split-second decision.

“I know this will get me disqualified. But I want to perform a song that I wrote, all by myself. From here,” she said into the mic, pointing to her heart, “Not from here,” she pointed to her head, “I’m sorry that Fire Saga has been so…unpredictable over our time in this contest. I just know that I must sing from here, for once.”

Sigrit looked down at the keyboard and took her deepest breath yet. Then lowered her hands and began to play.

\---

“What is she doing?” Erick grumbled.

As he stared intently at his friend, Lars knew exactly what was happening.

“She’s following her heart,” he said wistfully. His father gave him a sideways glance before shaking his head and directing his attention back to the TV.

“All by myself, with this great big world before me. But it's all for someone else,” Sigrit began to sing, accompanied only by what she was playing on the keyboard. Lars thought that her voice was more beautiful than he’d ever heard it before.

As she continued through the song, he quickly realized that she hadn’t been lying. It wasn’t for Lemtov. But he didn’t think that it was for him, either. It was for where they had come from. For all the people of their little town, all the creatures that lived in the sea, all the cobblestone streets and old fashioned street lights. It was for the bar where they had performed publicly for the first time and the basement where they performed for no one but themselves. It was for everything that had made Sigrit _Sigrit_ , and while that included him, it was so much more than that.

The bar erupted into gleeful chatter when she started singing in Icelandic. No one at the Song Contest ever sang in Icelandic. And yet, there was their Sigrit, pouring her heart out in her native language on international television. Lars felt prouder than he’d ever felt of anyone in his entire life. He didn’t even think about what he was missing out on as her golden voice washed over the patrons of the Husavik bar.

 _“Maybe my dream was meant for her,”_ he thought, gazing into her shining eyes as she continued to pour her heart out onstage, _“She is meant to be the famous musician and win the Eurovision Song Contest. Without me, she could have done it a long time ago.”_

And that’s when she hit it. The speorg note. Whispers and murmurs passed through the bar. The mythical speorg note. Their Sigrit continuing to push the limits of what was possible.

“She’s really something special, that Sigrit,” Lars’ father said before guzzling down the last of his drink.

Lars smiled gently at the television as the song ended and she stood up, making her way through the blanket of fog to bow in the middle of the stage.

“She really is.”

\---

She didn’t remember stumbling offstage and bursting into tears, wrapping herself up in Lemtov’s arms. They weren’t tears of sadness. Relief, maybe. In Sigrit’s heart, she knew that they were of overwhelming joy. She had just given the performance of a lifetime. She felt as though she were on top of the world. Her brain was buzzing, the experience giving her a kind of high that she was sure she would be chasing for the rest of her life.

“That was incredible! You really showed us what’s in here,” Alexander said, pulling away enough to tap on Sigrit’s chest.

“He’s right, you were fantastic,” Mita echoed, stretching her arms out for a hug. Sigrit gladly accepted, falling from Lemtov into his friend.

“I didn’t know I had that in me. Especially not the speorg note,” she said. She squeezed Mita tightly before letting go and leaning into her side, placing her head on the other woman’s shoulder. Lemtov wrapped his arm around Sigrit’s waist and looked down at her fondly.

“I knew that you did from the moment I first heard you sing. You’re something special, Sigrit Ericksdottir,” he said, reaching his free hand up to wipe away her tears.

“Really? That you knew from when you first heard me sing, I mean.”

“Absolutely! I don’t lie, Sigrit. And, ah…I know what you were going to say before you took stage, but we have new proposition,” Lemtov said, looking at Mita expectantly.

Sigrit’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

Mita turned to smile warmly at the blonde. “Come to Greece with us. We can get a yacht, just for us! We can tan all day and perform all night. We could write music together and-”

“Yes. I’m in,” Sigrit said, needing no further convincing.

“Wait, really?! Wow, I thought that was going to be way harder since you just sung entire song about your hometown…” Lemtov said incredulously. He scratched the back of his head as he trailed off.

“I did, yes. I love Husavik, and that will never change. I know I’ll end up back there someday. But right now, I want to see more of the world! Make some new friends, and some new music! I would love to join you two in Greece,” she explained.

“Oh, that is wonderful! Maybe the amazing choreographer Kevin Swaine can join us as well,” Lemtov said, trying to be sly about his request.

Mita chuckled. “You are simply too much, my friend. Come here,” she beckoned for him to embrace her and Sigrit, the trio blissfully tangling themselves together.

“Um, if it’s not too much to ask…I do want to make a stop before Greece,” Sigrit timidly piped up.

“Sure, anywhere! Where do you want to go? Paris, London, maybe Madrid?” Mita began to chatter excitedly.

Sigrit bit her lip and looked down. “That all sounds wonderful, but…I think I have to visit an old friend.”

—-

A week went by and no one had yet heard from Sigrit. If they had, they hadn’t told Lars about it. He understood. If she wanted to talk to him, she would talk to him. And of course she didn’t want to yet! She had been standing beside Mita and Alexander in the artist’s room, clutching each of their hands as the results of the contest were announced. She had probably run off with them to have the adventure of a lifetime. And that was fine by him.

“I made a choice,” Lars kept reminding himself, “I left her all alone at the Song Contest. She deserves so much better.”

So the last thing he expected to hear on a slow day of writing traffic tickets was a soft “I see you,” from an unidentified source. Lars spun around and was greeted by the sight of someone he had begun to suspect that he would never see again.

“Sigrit?! Oh my god, Sigrit! Oh, I’ve missed you so!” he exclaimed, rushing towards her.

She broke out into an uncontrollable grin as she continued slowly strolling down the dock. “I’m checking you out!”

“I’m checking you out,” he replied as they met in the middle and he wrapped her up in the tightest hug possible. She giggled as he lifted her up for a moment and cradled the back of her head.

When he set her down, she took a step back and looked up at him with untold admiration. Which was why Lars was especially surprised when she reared back and slapped him straight across the face.

“Owww, Sigrit! Sigrit, why!” he cried out.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, her hands flying up to cover her mouth, “I didn’t mean to hurt you! I just wanted it to sting a little bit.”

Lars rubbed the side of his face where the blow had landed. “Well, for your information, it stings a lot,” he said indignantly before adding, “but I guess I deserved that.”

Sigrit smiled up at him with a newfound sadness. “Yeah. What you did was straight up not cool, Lars.”

“I know,” he said, taking a moment to look out at the sea, “Sigrit, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t have been there.” Lars already began to feel himself getting choked up.

“Why did you even leave me? And why did you not come back?”

He took a shaky breath. “I was scared, Sigrit. I didn’t want the whole room to laugh at me the way they did when I was dancing to ABBA. I didn’t want them to laugh at us. And I definitely didn’t want to think about how much my father would be laughing at me while we were standing in that room and being told how much we suck,” he began to explain.

Sigrit smiled gently, clearly fighting back a wave of tears that was building up inside of her. “But why didn’t you come back?” she squeaked out.

Lars looked her in the eyes and felt his world crumbling down around him. “This is going to sound crazy, but I didn’t know.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t know?”

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know that we had made finals!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, Lars. I’m so sorry,” Sigrit said, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached out to take one of his hands in hers and let her thumb graze over the outside of it.

“It’s alright. Don’t feel bad for me. This sounds crazier, but…seeing you be so open and sing so beautifully without me was good. It made me realize that winning the Song Contest wasn’t the most important thing in the world. And that I let go of what was,” he said, looking sadly down at her.

“Oh,” Sigrit said simply.

“Sigrit, I’ve been awful to you. I never considered what you wanted, I always assumed that you just wanted whatever I wanted. And what I wanted was stupid…stupid, stupid,” Lars trailed off.

She gently cupped the side of his face to keep his gaze locked on hers. “It wasn’t stupid, Lars! But you’re right. You were really bad at telling what I wanted,” she said with a slightly pained laugh.

“I know. I know. I promise, from now on, I’ll listen to what you want. I promise,” he murmured, giving her a look that he’d given her only twice before.

Sigrit bit her lip and broke their gaze, hand flying back down to her side. “Well, ah…I came back to tell you and my mother and the elves that I’m going to Greece for a little while,” she said.

“Wait, really?” Lars felt as though all of the air had just been sucked out of his lungs.

“Ja! Mita invited Lemtov and they both invited me. We’re going to get a big yacht and be tan for the first time ever!” she said excitedly.

Lars recognized the same stabbing pain that he had felt when he found out that Fire Saga had made it into the Eurovision finals. It was quickly followed by the same wave of gratitude. “That sounds amazing. I’m so happy for you.”

“Don’t worry, Lars. I’ll be back before you know it,” Sigrit said happily.

At that moment, he knew that she was lying. She didn’t know that she was. But Lars knew that she would fall in love with the life that Alexander and Mita could give her. She would make music that would actually be appreciated. The three of them would sell out stadiums all across Europe and have thousands, if not millions, of adoring fans. Lars had to let her go for the foreseeable future, if not forever. She might come back one day, sure. But it would never be for long.

And Lars was happy with that. So instead of arguing, he only smiled and drew her close once more.

“I’m sure. I already can’t wait to see you again,” he said, trying to hide the sobs building in his throat.

“Oh, you don’t have to wait long, Lars! We’re spending a few days here so that I can show them all of Husavik!” Sigrit cooed.

“Wait, what?”

“They’re right over there! I had them hold my coffee for me,” she said, pointing across the dock to where she had come from. Sure enough, the two other Eurovision contestants were looking out over the water, each with two cups of coffee in their hands; presumably one for themselves and the other for Sigrit.

“Oh! That’s wonderful,” Lars said, still the slightest bit shocked.

“Come on, I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you again,” she said, using the hand she was holding to pull her friend along after her.

He smiled at her enthusiasm, stuffing down his apprehension at talking to Lemtov and Mita after what he had done to Sigrit. Something told him that Alexander might slap a little harder than she did.

His fears were entirely put to rest when the Russian happily squealed at the sight of him.

“Lars, hello! Did Sigrit get a good slap in?” he asked in far too cheerful of a tone. He passed one of the coffees he was holding the blonde, Mita turning to do the same.

“Ah, yes. She did,” Lars said with a mildly nervous chuckle.

“Good, because if she didn’t, Mita and I were going to step in, know what I mean?” Lemtov said, masking his threats with a chuckle of his own.

“Oh, stop it, Alexander! We talked it out,” Sigrit chided, swatting at his arm the best she could while holding two coffees.

“Glad to hear it. Now, where did you say we could see the whales?” Mita chimed in, eager to brush past the uncomfortable elephant that had been in the room.

“Oh, just right over here! Come, maybe we’ll be lucky enough to see them jumping out of the water!” Sigrit said. She gestured for the others to follow her down the dock, smiling broadly and practically skipping off.

Alexander stayed back for a moment and grabbed Lars by the arm, craning down to whisper into his ear. “If you ever hurt her like that again, no matter what she says, I will destroy you.”

Lars should have been terrified, so scared that he should have bolted. Instead, he wrapped both arms around Lemtov and pulled him in for a tight embrace.

“I’m glad that you’ll be there to look out for her.”

Unsurely, the Russian brought his arms up and awkwardly patted Lars’ back several times. “Of course. We will take good care of her,” he said before pulling away, “But, honestly, she can take pretty good care of herself.”

Lars looked over to where Sigrit was excitedly showing Mita all of the whales’ usual spots and couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face.

“That she does.”

\---

“These past few days have been amazing. I can’t believe they’re already over,” Sigrit said.

It had gone by in the blink of an eye. The four Eurovision contestants had whale-watched, helped Sigrit tend to her elf houses, performed at the one and only bar in Husavik (the popularity of Jaja Ding Dong only mildly confusing both Lemtov and Mita), had dinner with Lars’ dad and Sigrit’s mom (who were dating now? Sigrit was unexpectedly glad that nothing had worked out between her and Lars), drinking, and generally enjoying each others’ company.

Lemtov leaned back in his chair, legs propped up on the table in front of him, and took a swig of his beer. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“And we have nothing but fun planned for a long while!” Mita said excitedly, exchanging a broad grin with Sigrit.

Lars had been feeling a sort of melancholy set in throughout the day. It was only natural, given that his best - and only, for most of his life - friend was about to go on the journey of a lifetime with two incredibly attractive Eurovision contestants. He knew that he would feel better soon enough, even though in the meantime, it weighed him down like nothing ever had.

“You will have to send me postcards from everywhere you go,” Lars said, directing the sentiment to Sigrit.

“Oh, of course! Even better, I’ll send you souvenirs! Little snow globes and tiny flags on sticks,” she agreed.

“I’ll send you picture of Sigrit and her tiger, when I get one for her,” Lemtov offered.

“Oh, I’ve told you already, I don’t need a tiger! A normal kitten will do,” Sigrit insisted, laughing and patting the Russian on the arm.

“Maybe we could both get kittens so they could grow up together! And be best friends!” Mita exclaimed. Her and Sigrit exchanged an excited fist bump, smiling broadly.

“What time do you leave tomorrow?” Lars cut in.

“Early. Really early, it was the only flight out of here tomorrow. So we’ll say goodbye to you tonight,” Sigrit said, her expression morphing into a more solemn one, “but there is no need to think about that now! The night is still young, we have time to be merry!”

She lifted her two shot glasses and downed both of them in rapid succession, her friends watching her with gleeful admiration.

“You are right. We shall be the merriest group in all of Husavik!” Lars exclaimed.

The goodbyes could be saved for later. For now, the group raised their glasses and clinked them together, reveling in each others’ company within the cozy Husavik bar. Lars and Sigrit caught one another’s gaze across the table, prompting a warm smile from Sigrit. Her friend smiled back. Neither of them could wait to see what her future held.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave any thoughts/opinions/etc. in the comments down below!! I love talking about this movie, the characters, and all the potential they have. thanks for reading, I hope you all are doing well! <3


End file.
